


A Question of Lust

by Hambone



Category: Demon's Souls
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Deception, Forced Rape, Gang Rape, Humiliation, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mild Cum Inflation, Mutually Unrequited, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Trans Character, Vaginal Sex, Vomiting, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24286390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: The demons decide to show their prisoners how pointless resistance is.
Relationships: Biorr of the Twin Fangs/Ostrava of Boletaria | Ariona Allant, Fat Official/Ostrava of Boletaria | Ariona Allant
Comments: 5
Kudos: 32





	A Question of Lust

**Author's Note:**

> This is too long for just being straight up porn lmfao I just had to get the thought out. Sorry dear Ostrava, you are too cute to remain untarnished by my wicked little fingers! On top of that I just want to say while writing the dialogue I couldn't stop thinking about how fucking LOUD Ariona and Biorr are in DeS, they both practically yell every line. It's endearing.
> 
> Vomiting isn't part of the kink in this, I just thought it should be warned that it does occur. This is hard rape on all sides, be warned. Or, as usual, enjoy~!

Biorr knew there was something special today because of the smiles on their faces. He was too big to be manhandled by the usual dreglings, even now, after so many months imprisoned, so he was flanked by four, two holding the leads to the manacles binding his wrists, two behind, sporting large spears. He still could likely have taken them, if he tried, but for the jubilant minister who followed at the rear, various instruments of torture clanking about his belt. It was not unusual for them to take pleasure in their acts of villainy, but Biorr had a sharp eye, and he knew the ways of evil men. Though he was captive, he was not idle, and over the hours spent jeered at by their blackened teeth, manipulated by their leathery hands, he had become as expert to their wickedness as they were to human suffering. Today was different. There was a shine in their dark eyes he had not seen in a long while now, and it was not a good thing.

When Boletaria had fallen, Biorr had fought to the last. He should have been dead. They all should have been. Though he did not want to die, it stood to reason that a country so thoroughly decimated should be cleared to the last man, like a wood eaten up by fire, left barren, but the demons had other plans. His company had already been left torn by their attempt to breach the fog, and when they returned to their stony kingdom they were not prepared to be set upon again. The palace stood proud and unblemished, but the king did not come down, and the city was aflame. It had been months, when Biorr was first locked in chain, before he saw the surface again, and so he had languished in private at the thought of his people’s death. He was not afraid, for he was old and he had seen horror before, but he grieved. He would never again see the faces of his friends and comrades, of the proud and noble king, of kind and beautiful prince Ariona. He had been gone too long.

After a time, he and many others were given peasants clothes, stripped of their armor, and put to work. Biorr suspected he was part of the last wave of prisoners brought to their ranks of slaves, because when he was introduced into the crowd of men and women in the quarries their backs were already bent, their faces hollow and devoid of fight. They were human still, not the red and puckered things that amassed around the larger demon’s legs like tittering hounds, but they were broken humans, tired and weak. Most of them had not been warriors, much less knights, and so Biorr held his tongue and worked as they did, because it was his job to defend the common man, not embroil him in battles he could not win. They would overcome this horror through human endurance, not knightly war.

What they were building he did not know. He was bigger than most and so he was tasked with the hardest jobs, the lifting and the carrying and the digging that was fit for no other beast but the work animals, what little were left uneaten. He smiled, and he laughed, and he shared his bread with those who needed it more than he did, even as he saw his skin grow loose from dehydration and his wrinkles deepened. It made him proud to recognize the hatred in the demons eyes. Though he did not bother confounding himself with counting the days, Biorr knew the seasons through the fog that crowded the sun from the sky, and that nearly a year had passed since he had been put to work, and they had not broken him yet. Boletaria housed a spirit stronger than these fools had ever known, he was sure of it. It was the spirit that had sired and birthed him, raised him thick and strong and full of fire. A country was the soul of its people, and as battered and broken as they were, Boletaria had children yet.

That was why he was surprised to be taken up from the dungeons, to a room he had never visited before. Laborers did not set foot in the castle, or the houses, and so he had not seen these halls since before the world fell. They had changed very little. Rather than finding this comforting, Biorr was profoundly disturbed by it, walking through the corridors he had once presided over now as a prisoner. He was even more so when they entered another room and he was presented with a knight, laid out upon a table and surrounded by other ministers and officials.

“Ah, you’re here. Good.”

They were still within the city’s curtain wall, but the room was a small one, intended for meals and naps between shifts above. They had not done much to rearrange it since it had last served its proper purpose, and the bulging bodies of the demons looked comical perched atop the wooden stools meant for human behinds, something which Biorr may have even been bold enough to comment on were he not absorbed in the crude scene he had been presented with. The table the knight was put upon was a simple one meant for one or two men to use at once, and as such their whole body did not fully fit upon it, legs dangling over the edge. They were bound down, still in full Latrian plate, arms behind their back, shifting their chest out uncomfortably, and their ankles roped to the legs of the table. They’d been pulled so that their hips rested right upon the edge, spread wide, so that Biorr could fully see their nakedness. Their trousers had been cut raggedly around the groin so that the entire area was exposed, from their modest vulva to the crack of their buttocks. He averted his eyes as soon as he had been able to comprehend what he was seeing, but the damage was done.

“Welcome,” started one of the officials, patting his corpulent stomach absently, but Biorr cut him off.

“What manner of obscenity is this, you rotten vermin?”

Though he did not try to escape his bonds, he took a step further than his dregling guards would prefer, yanking them along the ground as he shook his fists before himself.

“How dare you dishonor this place with your smut?”

His lungs were deep, and his voice echoed around the cramped space, only dampened when the demons answered his fury with a bellow of simultaneous laughter. The knight too reacted, jumping when Biorr had first spoken, though they remained wholly silent, perhaps having not expected another human to bear witness to their predicament. Biorr wished he hadn't. It was a shameful thing to be part of, in any capacity, and as he looked down now, trying to avoid the soft spot of bared flesh, he could see the knight’s legs tremble against their restraints, trying to close and hide themselves. Though their face was still confined inside the signature beak of Latrian fluted armor, Biorr’s own cheeks reddened enough for them both, blood boiling with rage and pity for this poor creature. He knew full well what the demons did to some, what joys they took in the defilement of innocents, but he had never been forced into participation before and found himself as equally angered for his own sake.

One of the officials stood from his seat, jiggling with mirth, and planted his palms on either side of the captive knight’s head, making them again flinch nervously.

“Don't fuss yourself like some wee babe,” the demon said, “especially not when we have prepared such a gift for you.”

“Don't make me laugh,” Biorr spat, balling his fists where they were captive above his waist, “You've brought me here for your own sport, and nothing more.”

“Perhaps,” the official conceded, but smiled still, his deep voice churning from his gut like a wave of vomit, “but long has it been since you last laid your flesh against another, hasn't it?”

Curling his lip at the insult to his integrity, Biorr looked the thing right in its beady black eyes.

“If you wish to imply that I might take my frustrations out upon this poor soul in exchange for some favor to you, you have the wrong man. Even stripped of my titles, my code of honor stands unfettered!”

As he spoke some of the other officials had stood, crowding the table where the knight remained silent and shifting. The one who had first addressed him stood back to accommodate their girth.

“We imply nothing of the sort. You'll do the thing whether you believe in it or not.”

Their pudgy fingers set about to finding the straps that bound the knight’s cuirass to their back plate, undoing the buckles lazily. Biorr eyed them as he responded, the pit in his stomach widening.

“And why would you say that, then?”

The first official laughed.

“You act sorely wounded by our attacks on your so-called morality for one who has not even inquired as to the health of this dear lad here.”

A lad, then. Biorr had to physically stop his eyes from again darting to the hole in the young knight’s trousers.

“Why should I question you, when you so seldom give satisfactory answers?”

The demons succeeded in undoing the cuirass’s straps and lifted it away from the knight's chest. He was clothed in only a tight shirt, not even a proper gambeson between his body and the plate. Now that Biorr had somewhere to look besides his exposed nethers, he realized the whole arrangement was somewhat off, as if the man had dressed quickly, or perhaps in a set that did not belong to him. While the plate itself was well crafted, the odd size of his chausses and the extra length of his belts implied that this knight was given whatever was on hand. Biorr had not heard of the worlds that allied with Boletaria in his time here, which he had allowed his hopeful heart to find comfort in, thinking that perhaps they had escaped the same fate, but if this Latrian knight was here, showing signs of having been deployed under duress, it did not bode well. Beyond that, as he could now clearly see, though the young man was indeed muscled to an extent, his physique was nowhere near that of a seasoned knight or mercenary. His chest was soaked with sweat, rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths, highlighting the light toning of his stomach and the gentle slopes of his pectorals.

As he watched, one of the officials drew a small blade from his belt loop, bringing it close to the knight’s breast. Biorr again surged forward, this time being actively held back by his minders.

“This little lamb wandered into our fold only recently,” continued the official with whom he spoke, tucking his thumbs into his waistband proudly. The demon wielding the blade brought his other hand to the knight, crawling across his chest hungrily. His panicked breathing became louder, muffled by his helm.

“Such a lovely little thing, isn't he? So delicate and soft.”

The hand unencumbered by the knife sought out the little mounds of breast that peaked the knight’s pectorals, barely visible in his reclined state, and took hold. With a cruel pinch, the demon found his nipple, and the knight jumped and twisted away. It did not deter them, some of the officials on the other side of the table grabbing and holding the man still while his chest was set into, twisting and tugging his teat so painfully that Biorr’s own chest winced in sympathetic discomfort. The knight was still set on holding his silence, however, only making the quietest of sounds, even when the demon finally pulled the fabric of his shirt tight above his flesh and, with a quick nick of the blade, sliced an uneven hole in it. When released the cloth snapped back into place on the man’s wet skin, now exposing his nipple and the meat of his breast immediately surrounding it, reddened and hardened by their rough mishandling.

“Not much of an excuse for a knight, really,” said the official as his compatriot proceeded to show the other breast the same cruelty.

“And that is your excuse for this gross treatment of the lad?”

Another snip and the knight’s second nipple was equally exposed. Biorr turned his head away.

“Then, you do not like it?” asked the demon.

Biorr grimaced.

“It sickens me.”

“What a shame,” said the official, still laughing. “If you do not want him, I suppose we’ll have to employ another’s cock in your place.”

The knight trembled. Biorr pretended he had not seen.

“Perhaps these dreglings will do, hm? Or maybe even that would be too grand for this pathetic thing.”

He turned to a friend, teeth glimmering.

“Do you think the dogs would find him worth while?”

“Stop this!” Biorr rattled his chains.

“How can you dare to debase an innocent in such a manner?”

They all looked at him, grinning.

“We must entertain ourselves somehow, now that most of you are dead.”

Biorr glowered between them, their wicked jowls stretched grotesquely around their awful maws, their meaty hands twisting around one another eagerly. He looked at the man, shaking the uneven legs of the table he was trussed on with his violent breaths, as if fighting for his life. He was a knight, too, if a young one. He had come all this way, and for what? What evil these creatures devised, to end a man so green and new to this world. Biorr knew full well they could do whatever they pleased, whether he complied now or now. He knew he was being manipulated. Yet, he could not submit this young life to their whims with a good conscience, even if it broke them both.

“What must I do,” he said, “to please you, then?”

The crowd opened up immediately, as though they had anticipated his response.

“Touch him,” said the official. The chains being held by the dreglings at his sides dropped, and Biorr was unleashed. He did not move yet.

“And if I do this,” he said, deliberate and steady, “will you spare this boy your cruelty for this one night?”

“If you do not,” replied the official, “we will slaughter a man from your unit every hour until you do.”

Biorr did not know if the threat was hollow or not. It didn't matter if it was. A man always had the power to choose, even in situations of life or death, and he chose. He stepped to the table, positioning himself between the knight’s thighs. Sensing his closeness, the knight tensed.

“I'm sorry, lad,” Biorr said, far more quietly than he had spoken to the demons. They all hooted with glee.

“Now then,” said one, not the same, “put your finger to his cunt.”

He felt vile hearing the words. Though his hands were still cuffed before his chest, the chain between his wrists was long enough that when he was unbound he could move them somewhat separately from one another. Even with the knight’s lack of resistance, he still felt himself hesitate to move. The laughter of the officials nipped at his heels.

“Come on!”

Biorr lifted a hand and placed it on the knight’s inner thigh, where it was still covered by the thick fabric of his trousers. The knight shook beneath his touch. Biorr could feel the way his heart raced even through their minor connection.

“You’re a rotten bunch,” he addressed the demons, “Vile to the core!”

“If you stall any longer, we shall be forced to take matters into our own hands!”

With his back stiff, Biorr let himself look at the crux of the knight’s legs. The young man was well groomed, something that stood out in their current situation as odd, his light pubic hair neatly trimmed back to a short crop. Even with his spread posture, the pink lips of his inner labia were only just peeking out of his slit. Though Biorr very much doubted the demons had left the knight alone since his capture, he was clean now, the only signs of violence being the dried blood spattered across his plate and the deep red of his still erect nipples. He did not appreciate the courtesy.

“I'm sorry,” he said again, and he slid the rough pad of his thumb against the knight’s sex.

“Yeah, that's it,” encouraged his audience, and Biorr had to close his eyes and focus on swallowing his bile.

The knight still flinched, but he had nowhere to go, and as awful as the task he was presented with was Biorr could not bear allowing the young man to be tormented worse so for his failure to comply. It was a game he had no chance of winning, but Biorr’s heart, even now, remained tender. He rubbed his thumb soothingly up and down the knight’s quim, just enough to spread his labia around the digit. The knight was soft, like rabbit fur.

“Keep going!”

Biorr switched to his index and long finger, his other hand forced to grip the knight’s thigh or hang uselessly by the short leash the manacle restricted it to, rubbing the knight slowly into a state of arousal as best he could. He had not touched another body in such a manner in many years now, but he had spent much of his youth embracing the lusts of life and the skill remained. That, or the young man was more sensitive than he’d have thought, because very soon he found his movements aided by slickness. Biorr spread his fingers vertically and stroked him up, so that he caged the knight’s small clit and with each long drag of his wrist he pulled back the hood, exposing the pearl to the open air.

He’d had to hunch himself somewhat to maneuver his bound hands properly, the unintended effect of which was that his view was unobstructed and obscene. The knight’s hips jumped in futile attempts to either escape his touch or press into it, refused the freedom of either option by his tightly tied limbs and waist, simply forced to endure. Through it all he never made a sound, beyond that of his labored breaths, a dignity Biorr had to respect. The recognition of his own budding excitement as he worked the knight’s pussy over made him sick to his stomach, but it did nothing to mitigate the fact that, as old and worn as he became, the sight of a young thing stirred to erotism by his work aroused the animal in him. The sounds his movements made had slowly grown to become undeniably filthy, as the knight’s nectar wetted them both and his pussy darkened from satiny pink to a hungry red. Without being told, on one downward slide of his hand, Biorr gently dipped the tip of his forefinger inside his hot hole.

“Yes, frig him!” someone hollered, “Stir that little cunt open!”

As likely intended, the demon’s approval made Biorr wish he murder upon them. Doing as told, he quested onward, screwing the first inch or so of his finger inside, to test if the young man were truly ready. He was relieved and unsettled to find the depths of his quim unguarded by the tightness of a virgin. He did not want to take this knight’s maidenhead, but the alternative had likely been worse. Steeped in pity and anger, Biorr stroked the knight inside too, rubbing his finger deeper and deeper within the his quivering pussy, taken in by the heat, the squeeze. He ground the heel of his palm down upon his clit and the knight’s insides spasmed.

“Harder! Harder!”

Even with their hideous calling, Biorr’s groin was warming quickly, his finger being joined by its second inside. Clanking loudly, the knight was shaking his head back and forth, the visor of his helmet hitting the table each time. It was less of a refusal than simple wildness born from sensation, and Biorr had to marvel at how little he’d done to illicit such praise. He had never held a lover whose natural tightness made his hands feel so large before, viciously squeezing what little was given. He pushed in to the root of both fingers and the knight bucked as best he could, so incredibly wet.

“Frig him!”

He did, taking less care than perhaps he should have, wanting to get this over with, wanting to please them into pacification, wanting to feel how deep he could go and hating himself for it. They were both soldiers, he knew, they had both been dealt worse, he was sure, but still, when he snapped his hand back and forth and drew a hard, desperate quiver from inside, he felt like a monster, and his cock began to swell down the leg of his trousers. He fucked into the lad quick and smooth, so that each time his fingers were fully sheathed the flat of his hand slapped audibly against the knight’s swelling quim. Sweat that had begun to bead in the knight’s nethers now rolled into the creases of his thighs, darkening his yellow pubic curls to a honeyed gold. While the position was awkward to maintain, Biorr brought his other thumb up to attend to the knight’s clitoris, which was now bright and engorged, stroking the hood in time to his thrusts. He was not so cruel as to touch the head directly, but the young man reacted as though he’d been shocked, jittering his hips madly, and it was then that Biorr realized the knight was cumming.

He stroked him through it, hard and even, engrossed by the way his thick fingers stretched the knight wide, by the slickness that glistened along his hand. The knight bloomed open around him now, a small and dignified pussy left lax by want, and as Biorr withdrew himself the pink clung to him longingly.

“You're not done,” said the demon, “Fuck him!”

Biorr’s heart was racing and his head hurt. He had to drop his trousers down to the knee to get his cock out, hard enough that even his heavy old flesh sprung to meet his hand. He was so slick with the knight’s spendings that his hand glided over the skin of his cock easily, jacking himself to full erection with his eyes transfixed to the sopping slit. It wasn't until Biorr stepped closer between the knight’s thighs that he again reacted, too distracted by his orgasm to realize what was happening. Biorr hefted his weighty cock to rest on top of the knight’s pubis mons, unintentionally measuring them together, and the knight began to shake his head rapidly, as if begging for mercy without words.

“Forgive me,” said Biorr, his ears ringing, and he pulled back to line his cockhead up to the knight’s twitching cunt. The legs of the table clattered against the stone floor loudly as the knight thrashed, but the demons were cheering and Biorr could not stop himself from rutting his hips forward. Their size disparity was great and his prick was resisted, pressing and pressing without headway. He had to twist one hand around and with two fingers spread the knight open, again being struck and shamed by how perfect his pussy was, how delicate his labia as they kissed his sex, how flushed and swollen his clit. Had they met in any circumstances other than this, Biorr would have felt honored to be accepted into such a remarkable cunt.

He pushed again and the knight could no longer refuse him. The entire room watched as his fat dick was swallowed, ever so slowly, within his tender confines. The knight did make a sound then, not a word but a sort of cry, like a wounded dove. Biorr felt stricken by it, dizzy with shame, but at the same time his heartbeat was racing in his groin, pulsing with desire realized. The head of Biorr’s cock swelled his quim until the flesh burned bright red, hardly able to hold him, but it did, and the tightness of it, the heat, sent Biorr’s brain swimming in pleasure. It had been too long.

Trying to keep his movements gentle, he edged more of himself inside, apologizing under his breath over and over again as the knight continued to violently twist and turn, imploring Biorr to stop inaudibly. He couldn't. He pushed harder, half expecting to see blood, but none came, only more of the knight’s spendings. When he was a little more than halfway inside the knight’s inner walls would give no more. Catching his breath, Biorr swayed, taking in the feeling of the rippling muscles that grasped him. For the first time he looked up to the helm of the knight, at the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and his gaze was drawn to the still tender buds of the knight’s teats where they were exposed through his shirt. He licked his lips.

“How does it feel, Knight of the Twin Fangs?”

Shaken from his reverie, Biorr glared from under his thick brows at the demons, little more than shining eyes and teeth in the dark.

“You know already, don't you?”

They laughed at that, though they had never stopped laughing. He did not answer them, but the knight did feel good around him, sinfully so. Biorr hated it, that he was as hard as he was, but no amount of self chastisement kept the pleasure from beating in his veins. His balls were heavy with long unspent seed, a feeling he had not noticed until now that he was close to spilling it, swaying low between his thighs. He ground himself into the knight’s hole, trying to get as much of his cock inside as he could.

“He’s loose enough,” someone snapped, “hurry.”

They could not possibly know the velvet squeeze around him now and say that in good confidence, but Biorr doubted they cared much for the comfort of either human. He pulled his hips back, dragging the knight’s clinging pussy out along his cock, until the head was all that was left, bulging out the rim. It was a deviant sight. When he fucked back in, the knight’s entire cunt convulsed, doing what his body could not. Shutting out the congratulatory vulgarities from the officials, Biorr hunkered down and began to truly fuck the man. He could not hold both the knight’s hips at once, cuffed as he was, so he folded his arms between them and grasped at the lip of his faulds as an anchor point. This brought him low over the knight, and with each thrust his attention was again drawn to the small mounds of his breasts. Without losing pace, Biorr leaned closer still, til they were nearly flush together, and kissed at one of them.

He was getting in deeper now, nearly to the base of his prick, opening the lad up around him in spite of himself. Biorr wanted to be delicate, to ease them both through this with dignity, but it was so hard now that he was in the midst of it, after so long without pleasure or the touch of another. The knight was incredibly tight, both due to his small stature and his lack of use, and when Biorr bottomed out he squeezed down so hard he thought his cock would snap off. It was an intoxicating sensation and Biorr fell fully into drunkenness, sucking the knight’s nipple into his mouth while his hands wandered down between them to find where they connected, searching the cleft of his pussy for his little clit again. He should leave the man be, but it felt ungentlemanlike to be the only one taking pleasure in the act, and as he rolled the knight’s nipple between his teeth he snapped their hips close, til his balls smacked the young man’s ass, and the knight was shaking and spasming again, cumming again, and Biorr still did not stop. He was close too, almost embarrassingly so for a man of his age, but it was hard to control himself when he was enveloped in such a real, fleshly thing after so long.

The salt on the knight’s skin tasted like home. Biorr sucked at his breast until the teat stood hard in his mouth, pulse hot on the ridge of his tongue. When he managed to pull himself away it was red and inflamed with sex, glistening from his saliva, and it was all he could do not to dive down and devour it again, tease and torment him until neither of them could move, but Biorr managed to turn his head to the side and instead take the other into his mouth and begin the process again. He thumbed the knight’s clit, clumsy in his growing anticipation, uncouth and coarse, but every time his rough skin brushed against the tender head the knight’s quim constructed around him in a way that made Biorr’s mind go blank, cleaned of the horrors of recent years, free from the shame of knowing his position. His buttocks flexed, the slap of their skin together filling the whole room, an obscene accompaniment to an obscene act.

Biorr hadn't meant to cum inside, but when his orgasm hit him he was staggered by it. He slammed his cock in to the hilt and held it there, grinding his pelvis harshly into the knight’s cunt as his balls contracted and he poured pulse after pulse into him. So close to the knight's chest Biorr could hear a sound trying to escape him, a cry or a scream or a moan, trapped in his lungs. It felt so good, so pure, that it was only halfway into cumming Biorr realized what he was doing and tried to pull out, at least spill some of his seed away from this stranger’s womb, but by that point the demons were crowding close and they held the two of them in place as the final waves hit him. The knight’s hot cunt was wringing him for every drop he had, the orgasm coming so hard and long that Biorr’s groin ached, as though invisible hands were squeezing his balls empty. It seemed ages before he finished, laying heavily across the uncomfortable planes of Latrian plate maille, resting his head across the knight's heaving chest as though he were a sleeping boy and not a grown man.

“There,” he said, once he’d gathered enough wit to do so, “I've done it.”

He stood straight as he could, but the dreglings kept their position at his hind, keeping him buried inside the knight.

“That's what you asked of us, is it not?” Though he doubted the other man had been given much choice in the matter, they had both been subject to the act, and therefore he held them both as equal victims in this madness.

“And quite the job you've done of it,” replied one near the knight’s shoulder, patting his pauldron with mock sympathy, “One would almost think you were enjoying yourself.”

Ignoring the sleight, Biorr shifted his hips, now growing uncomfortable in the furnace between his legs.

“Then lets end this charade and be done with it.”

“Oh?” said another, reaching down to the clasps on the knight’s helmet, “Are you not curious as to the well-being of your partner? How cruel of you.”

To be honest, he was avoiding the thought. Having lost himself to his own desires was one thing, but to see the face of the one he had commuted such an act against, at his own will’s behest or not, brought him a deep sense of dread. It was selfish, but he was tired. It had been such a long time since he was free.

“What game is this?” he said, but before he could finish the official pulled the helmet back off the knight’s head and Biorr was struck cold.

Ariona Allant had been his charge for a time, when he was younger. The prince was frail, even as the traits of manhood became manifest on his body, a kind and intelligent soul, and Biorr had cared for him very deeply. Though it was not an official duty of his, Biorr had taken upon himself the position of his guard and companion, when the prince was home, away from the lofty courts of Latria where he studied. While naive of the world at large, he was not a fool, and their conversations grew long and engaging over time, developing a sort of purity in their interactions that came with true friendship that Biorr had not felt since he himself was a young man. At times he had found himself touched by silly fantasies, imaginings of what might have transpired between the two of them, were he younger and more suitable a type for an heir apparent to the throne, desires that were not innocent in nature but very much so in emotion. It was not proper, even still, as a knight was no compatible station to a prince, but Biorr had shaken away his fears, knowing that such fiery passions were long behind himself anyhow, that merely the thought of taking Ariona by the hand through the king’s garden, holding him gently in his arms, was enough.

He looked up at Biorr with eyes bloodied by long crying. Within the confines of his hood and helmet, Ariona's face had grown wet with sweat, with his on tears and snot. His golden hair was streaked across his forehead, wild and disheveled, but in line with his grooming it was still short, clean. The rags stuffed into his mouth were soaked through, spittle dribbling pathetically down his chin through them now, stained lightly pink where the rope that held the gag fast cut into the corners of his mouth. He must have been struggling very hard to speak. There was a deep, exhausted horror to his face, and Biorr knew he had done something irreparable.

“Ariona,” he said, dumbly as his heart grew fat and heavy and fell from his breast.

“God,” he said then, “What have you done? What have you done to us?”

It was only then that the hands on his back released him, and Biorr stumbled away, his cock slipping from the prince’s sopping pussy with a lewd slap. He stumbled over his trousers and fell back, hitting the side of another table that had been pushed off to the corner. His world became nothing for a moment but a small, dark room, within which he had committed an act of true evil. There was a stain upon his soul.

“Surprise,” said the official.

Biorr flew at him. Wrists manacled, pants around his ankles, Biorr took the demon closest to him down with a hard slam of his well muscled shoulder, the heavy brute unbalanced and tumbling to his backside. The dreglings tried to grab his arms and Biorr clasped his fists together, striking one upwards from under the chin so hard there was a sickly crunch of teeth, blood spurting from his mouth when he yelled out. One had managed to get an arm around the crook of his elbow so Biorr let him have it, driving his joint backwards into the dregling’s collarbone where it connected so hard the creature could not even scream, air leaving its lungs in a loud sigh all at once. It feel into him and he wrapped his arms around its neck, the chain of his cuffs now a weapon, and he strangled it against his own chest. The officials were not unarmed, however, and when Biorr turned to them, still holding the thrashing demon like a shield before himself, there was a blade thrust in his face.

“Now, now, that's no way to act,” the demon drawled, “You might hurt someone.”

His attention was immediately on Ariona. None of them had their tools brandished, but the threat was implicit. One of them, the one who’d removed Ariona’s helmet, was picking absently at the knot of his gag. Biorr stumbled, the dregling in his arms gagging loudly.

“You monsters!” he shouted, because he could do nothing else, “Demons! Infernal scum from the depths of the seven Hells! How could you have,” he swallowed thickly, anguish coloring his voice, “he’s only a boy!”

“A boy indeed,” said the minster with the knife, and Biorr felt sick again, “he’s old enough to have come here on his own. I wouldn't have thought him capable of it, really. The little prince, gallivanting about in armor, playing at knight. Terrible shame. He even managed to get himself into the city, somehow, cowering from this corner to that with his shiny, useless trinkets.”

He looked back at Ariona, who lay unmoving, eyes flooding his cheeks with tears.

“But the prince of all Boletaria couldn't even cut his way through a handful of this chaff.”

His tone turned derisive as he vaguely indicated to the dreglings that now sat sprawled about Biorr’s feet, gasping and clutching their injuries, the one in his arms still struggling for life. Biorr’s heart rebutted loudly, that Ariona was strong in other ways, that purity such as his was a greater virtue than skill with blade, that it didn't matter even if he had been the yellowest coward in the world because no one was deserving of this. His mouth remained silent but for a gasping sound, torn.

By this point the official had removed the greater part of the gag, and as he plucked the last rag from Ariona’s lips the prince jolted his head up, trying to say something.

“Biorr,” he called wetly, “no-!” and then he was wracked with another fit of coughs as his own saliva choked him.

“You Highness,” Biorr responded, choked as well, shaking his prisoner, growing limp.

“Really,” said the official, “Tears? You seemed so happy only moments ago.”

Biorr had not realized he was crying. They were undoing the ropes that bound Ariona down, now, cutting them where they could not easily reach the knots. As he was released he tried to sit upright, but the recent strain n his body kept him limp. Surprisingly, the demons assisted him, grabbing him by the shoulders and hauling him into a sitting position. His arms were still trapped behind his back by whatever shackled them there, but as his legs were freed he immediately closed them, despite everyone having already seen him intimately.

“Biorr,” he tried again, voice raw, “it’s not your fault-!”

“Oh my God,” Biorr was saying quietly, “oh, God.”

The demons grabbed Ariona’s thighs, prying them apart again, wider than before. He tried to twist away but one of them grabbed him by a fistful of his hair and gave him a rough shake as punishment.

“You were right, before,” said one, “about us having had a little taste.”

They reached down to the gap in Ariona’s legs and spread his pussy open, giving Biorr a good look at the results of his own ardor. The ordeal had left the prince engorged and dark, his labia swollen like the petals of a well-drunk flower, and the little crease of his slit exposed between them visibly throbbed every now and then, expelling fat spurts of Biorr’s jism. Biorr’s arms bulged with muscle and the dregling’s neck snapped.

“Bastards!” He dropped the body.

“Oh yes,” the demon continued, “the little prince was resistant at first, so concerned about his virtue, as if anyone gave a damn about his noble cunt.”

“Get your hands off him!”

The demon still had his knife out, the others still pawing at Ariona, and Biorr could do nothing to back up his demands, but he roared like a lion. A minister grasped one of Ariona’s minute breasts, puffy from Biorr’s attentions, and gave it a squeeze that made Ariona squirm away and wince.

“The dreglings got to him first, of course,” said the other demon, as if he’d never been interrupted, “they were the ones who found him. By the time we got our hands on _h_ _is Majesty_ he’d already been quite relieved of his virginity.”

Ariona looked away sharply, visibly cut.

“We divested him of any remnants, just in case.”

Like a slug, the official’s fat tongue slithered out between his lips, remembering the taste of innocence lost. Biorr would have killed him with his bare hands, even with that puny knife, but the three of them at the table were still pawing at Ariona, and Biorr knew better than to trust his strength over their speed.

“He was so deliciously compliant after the third or forth cock.”

“You beasts will never get away with this,” Biorr panted, shaking with wrath, “the king will have your heads on pikes!”

“The king?”

And they all erupted into laughter again. Even at times of war, Biorr was a forgiving soul. He could not think of a time before this he had ever so truly, so viscerally desired the destruction of another person, another people, never felt his blood boil so hot with fury, never pictured with such clarity the image of his own hands throttling the demon’s fat neck until he was cold.

“I’m sorry.”

Ariona’s tiny voice drew his attention back to his disgraced lord, looking so small within the suit of armor he wore.

“They're right, Biorr. I came here alone, and I fell to them, so easily. Its my fault. I should have been here, before, when- when-!”

Somehow he had the strength to cry again, and Biorr reached for him, only held back by their knowing looks.

“Your Highness,” he said, “It’s not your fault! These, these mongrels-!”

“And now you’ve seen me, like this,” Ariona continued miserably, “Oh, God! I’m ruined!”

“Enough of this!”

He hadn't been paying as much attention to his attackers as he should have, and Biorr was taken by surprise when the official finally made his move, shoving Biorr back as he’d shoved them. He was not hard to topple, now that his entire body was like stone and his veins like briars beneath his skin. He stumbled back and the demon advanced again.

“Get a chair. Hurry!”

“What are you up to now, demons?” Biorr shouted, and was immediately punished for it by Ariona’s sharp gasp as several thick fingers shoved their way inside his pussy all at once.

“Leave the boy be! He’s had enough!”

“Enough?” the demon chuckled, “what a cruel thing to say, after you've left him so unsated. Even now I can feel him grasp around me like a beggar’s hand.”

“That's not true!” Ariona snapped, but there was an edge of pain to his voice that undercut any illusion of pride he had left. The dreglings, those who still lived, wrestled Biorr into a seat much like those the officials had used upon his arrival. They were pathetic as soldiers, but Biorr allowed it, had to. He’d seen the way these monsters summoned fire, how quickly they could char a man’s flesh to the bone. There was no doubt in his mind that punishing him took precedence over keeping Ariona alive.

“There's no point in modesty, little prince,” said the demon, thrusting his fingers in and out slowly, drawing loud, filthy squelches from his used cunt, “every man in this room has tasted your honey.”

Ariona shook his head back and forth, squeezing his eyes shut.

“No!”

“Please!” Biorr cried, even as he was forced to sit by many hands, “Spare him! He’s done no wrong to you!”

“Is wrong required to enjoy ourselves? What wrong had he done to you, then, to wring such a vile spewing from your loins?”

It was a vicious thing to say, and Biorr flinched as if struck.

“I didn't know,” he said, haggard.

“Does that change the situation? Would you have left him to our desires, had you known his true identity?”

Biorr knew he was right. Given the options he had been, even knowing the night was his prince would not have stopped him, but he could have taken more care, been more gentle, acted less like a slavering imbecile. The demons hand quickened, splashing Biorr’s cum across the table between Ariona’s legs. He bit at his bloody lips, poorly stifling little cries, still fighting to close his thighs and hide himself.

“Stop it!”

“No, you've done your part. As honorable folk, we shall keep our word: Ariona won’t be thrown to the beasts tonight.”

Biorr watched helplessly as they closed in on his prince, continuing to make him shake and whine as the official stirred inside him viciously. Beautiful, soft Ariona, who had taken the time to listen to an old knight’s tales, whose doe eyes and loud laughter had haunting his nights for years now, disgraced by demons, by Biorr’s own foolishness. What could he have done, but what he had, and yet it wounded him so grievously that Biorr knew he would never recover. Ariona’s voice became high with misery as two hands grabbed his chests and kneaded at them mercilessly.

“No more, please, I beg of you!”

Playing at compliance, the demon popped his three fingers loose with a horribly lewd sound, only to bring them directly to Ariona’s face, which was held in place by the hand still wound in his curls.

“Don't pretend you aren't dreaming of being rutted again,” the demon said, forcing his slick digits against Ariona’s lips, catching him off guard enough to get two of them inside, “your filthy cut was made for this!”

Ariona gagged at the unexpected intrusion, but was unable to do anything more about it, drool spilling down his chin.

“How does your knight taste, my liege?” they joked.

“You’d best enjoy it! It'll be the last of human seed you'll get in a long time.”

He finally shook his head free, or was allowed to think as much, when his face was turning blue from lack of oxygen, his nose stuffed with snot and tears. Gasping, Ariona tried to focus through his sodden lashes.

“Not in front of Biorr,” he beseeches them, “Please, don't look at me like this!”

“After hes already had you so well?”

They pulled him off the table, his unsteady legs clattering to the floor, weighed down by what was meant to protect him. Bending him across it, til his tender tits were ground into the wood, the demons grabbed handfuls of his modest ass, slapping the backs of his thighs like giddy drunkards.

“Please, I don't want him to see!”

Biorr wanted to comfort him but he couldn't. He strained forward in his seat, as if being able to be close to Ariona would be enough.

“Ah, what pleasure it brings me to hear your voice sing in such dulcet tones!”

While Biorr was well endowed, both in body and sex, he was not the size of one of these demons by far, and when one pulled its cock from within the confines of those awful pantaloons they wore, it became obvious they were unfortunately equally proportional. The skin was as leathery and bloated at the rest of him, riddled with creeping veins, and when he gave it a taunting stroke a bead of filthy precum grew from the purple tip.

“Don't!” Biorr said, “let him be!”

Ariona looked over his shoulder and their eyes locked.

“I'm sorry, Biorr!” he sobbed, “Please don't look, please!”

Then his mouth gaped open in a painful moan as the demon pushed into him. Biorr had opened him up well, so big and heavy Ariona had thought he might die taking him, but even through his shame and terror it had been Biorr, someone he knew, he loved, a man who did not want to hurt him, not this. As wet and worn as he was now, it still hurt terribly. The first time had been just as bad, his trousers cut away as he pissed himself in terror, the coward that he was, and without any preparation or care the dreglings had mounted him and shoved their rotten cocks inside, fighting one another for the privilege, like he was a toy. At least then his humiliation had been his alone, witnessed by no other human, his cries eaten up by the shadows of the underground passage he’d been cornered in.

There was no courtesy for his comfort this time, what little he had been given by Biorr, and the demon pushed in hard as he could, ramming his cock to the end of Ariona’s limits and them pushing harder. Ariona kicked his legs out wildly, pinned to the table by the bulging belly of his assailant. The demon’s prick was enormous, burning inside him. At least now he had the benefit of still being stretched from Biorr’s impressive girth; the first time the official had taken him, as he lay screaming in their dungeon, he’d torn open inside. They’d fed him grass, between rounds, so that the fissures closed, so that each time was like the first, agonizingly fresh and new to his body. As a younger man he’d often dreamed of his first time, with various knights he had fancied over the years, something he had revisited often as he lay clutching his pillows at night and blushing to himself. It was meant to be a special thing, as his tutors had explained, between blessed lovers on wedding night, and as he matured and his crushes grew to one more focused love, he’d marveled at the many ways his father’s books described the situation occurring. The demons had taken great delight in allowing him to live through his hymen tearing, again and again.

As soon as he’d bullied his way deep into Ariona the official pulled out again, all the way, so that on his second thrust the prince was able to feel the burn of being spread wide anew. In this way he trained the muscles to give instantly, and remain at a gape when he’d extracted himself, penetrating Ariona’s natural defenses repeatedly as he begged and cried. When at last he’d finished teasing, the minister grabbed Ariona’s hips with his grubby palms, the silk of his gloves worn old and crusted with blood, and fucked into him earnestly. He was trying to stifle himself, for all the while he felt Biorr’s gaze upon his cheek, but it was so hard when his body, that which had not known the touch of another until mere days before, was now so thoroughly abused. His previous two orgasms had left him overly delicate, and every part of him felt swollen and hot, too hot, like Hell licking its flames up his legs.

The demon’s cock, a wicked and inhuman thing, ground against every place within him, leaving no sensitivity unexploited. He pounded inside without care of how he battered against Ariona’s cervix, a pain so profound it stole the breath from his lungs each time, and he had to strain himself to keep from screaming. The table’s harsh grain bit into his sore breasts as he bounced against it, like little claws that sought to drive him mad. Every moment he was sure he could not last another, that he could break to pieces before everyone’s eyes and die there, but he didn't, life mercilessly keeping its hold around his throat, and in retaliation for his desires it began to rouse that awful sex in him that had not yet cooled from Biorr’s attentions.

When Biorr had been brought before him, Ariona had not known what to do with himself. His soul had sang with joy that his knight indeed lived, no slave to the demon’s mental jail, flesh untainted by their black magicks, but at the same time he had felt been struck by a dismay like never before. He was broken, used and spread before his friend, bared like a whore and Biorr did not even know it was him. How could he think to rejoice when he was a failure, a prince who could not help his people, who could not even save himself, disgraced and dishonored. He wanted to run and hide his head in Biorr’s breast like a frightened child, and his disgust with himself for it was so great that it nearly swallowed up by the sickness that came with knowing how disappointed Biorr would be when he realized the boy he had wasted years upon was nothing but the final, pathetic gasp of a dying lineage, nothing beside his father and the men that came before him.

Ariona had never realized how much he had been indulged until the people of Boletaria no longer had reason to listen to him. What a fool he had been, prattling on to this great man, this hero, about the daily life of nobility. Even through his obvious disgust, Biorr had done what he thought was right, had spent himself inside this unworthy body, thinking he was protecting a good man. Ariona could not keep from sobbing openly when the official slammed in hard and his filthy cum spilled hot in his belly.

Already full from Biorr, Ariona writhed in place as the demon’s seed bloated him. Halfway through his orgasm the official pulled out, so that he could stain the outside of Ariona’s cunt, and when he did his spendings gushed out after, a gross spurt of thick cum as he tried and failed to keep his weary muscles closed. It was repulsive, nothing like that warmth that Biorr had left him with. The jism of demons was excessive and viscous, clinging to his insides with a gummy persistence. Even with the overflow, Ariona felt it weigh inside his belly, like a parasite. If his hands were free he would have clawed at himself, trying to clean as much from within as he could with his bare hands.

No sooner had the official finished his release, a bilious groan remarking his pleasure, than another pushed between them and lined his own eager cock up.

“I cant do this, please!” Ariona managed to find his words, only to choke on them as he was again entered too fast and too hard. This demon was taller than the other and he had to lift Ariona’s hips up to fuck him properly, forcing the prince to stand on his toes in a painful balance. His thighs were already aching from the effort of his struggles alone, barely able to support himself, but the ease with which he was lifted was so horrible that he felt he had to remain upright on his own merit or else the lack of control would devour him.

“I beg you,” Biorr was saying, “I'll take the lad’s place!”

“You?” one of them replied, “An old man like you isn't worth the shit beneath my boot.”

Ariona wanted to curl up and disappear. He deserved to die, but he was still so, so afraid.

“No! No more!” he wailed, the official grinding their hips together until he was lifted off his toes entirely for a second. He was fucked into fast, the demon enjoying him without any attempt to encourage reciprocation, but Ariona’s taut pussy was grown alive with need again. The pain was so great he was not sure how he could find any pleasure in the act, but there it was, gnawing at his nerves, the revenge of his naive body on him.

Seeing how he hid his face, the demon wrapped his arms around Ariona’s waist and pulled him back from the table, lifting him up so he could be turned to where Biorr was held captive.

“Don't keep your lusts secret, little prince,” he jeered, and Ariona shook away, trying to keep from sight.

“No!”

One of them grabbed his jaw and hauled his face up, so that Biorr could see everything. Through his weeping all Ariona could make out were blurry shapes, but it was enough simply knowing what Biorr was witness to. His mouth pulled down at the corners in heavy gasps, squeezing his eyes shut, but his brutal flush was evident, and each thrust forced an anguished moan from his lungs.

“You were made for this, and nothing else,” the demon said, leaning in close so that Ariona could smell his stinking breath, “too weak to fight, too stupid to lead. Yes, you’d have no virtue if not your whorish little body.”

Ariona trembled, gritting his teeth together til the tendons in his jaw cracked against the bone.

“Your father was right to keep you from the court. Every time you visited all you brought was embarrassment to him, to the name Allant. Do you know what they said about you, when you couldn't hear? How the knights and retainers spoke of your empty head and your lithe legs? Even the servants spoke your name like a curse, like you were nothing but a tart in noble clothing.”

They really must have, he realized, with how pitiful he was now. They must have known. His lips quivered.

“That's not true!”

The demon fucking him slammed in hard and his words ended in a sputtering cry. He felt bruised inside, like his womb was being battered by a fist.

“Oh, but they did, your Majesty,” the demon said gleefully, “how your irritating mouth would be better silenced by the pricks of your superiors, how your slender legs were of no use for anything but being wrapped around a good man’s waist. Its a wonder no one took it into themselves to show you what a proud little twat you are, pump you full of cum instead of hot air. Take you across their noble knees and spank your bottom red til you realized what a child you are!”

Groaning, the demon emptied itself into him, yet again making Ariona near on squeal with the discomfort of being overfilled. The two holding him let go and he dropped off the official’s cock to his knees, armor clattering together resoundingly. He hunched over his lap, tears plinking from his plate. Yanking him back on the floor, one of the officials who had not yet had him reached down and brazenly pinched Ariona’s clit between his thumb and forefinger, as if inspecting a budding flower.

“I think he’s hungry for more,” the demon said, ignoring his ragged protests, “but this whore’s holes grown rather sloppy for my tastes.”

He was manhandled head to knee, so that his body folded in on itself and his face nearly touched the floor boards, and before Ariona could exclaim at the painful position he was given another concern to voice when a finger bluntly screwed its way up his ass.

“Now this I might find pleasure in!”

“Oh, God!” Ariona wailed, “not there!”

But he had no say in the matter and he demon was already fishing out his cock. His hand was gloved, and dry, and it hurt, like everything hurt. None of them had touched him there before, during all the torture of the past days, and the sensation was so wrong and so incomprehensible to him that Ariona could only marvel at the horror of it.

“You’re not getting your way anymore, your Highness,” said the demon, “no matter how much you stamp your foot.”

He did pull his finger out, though, and for a moment Ariona could breathe again. It did not last long. The finger returned, with its partner, the two of them forcing inside no matter how he clenched that dirty part of himself shut, this time assisted by something fluid and slick. It still burned, the body not meant for such abuses, and the demon took great delight in twisting and spreading his fat fingers so that Ariona moaned and cried miserably around him.

“What a filthy thing you are, taking it up the ass so well.”

When he pulled out there was an audible pop, something that made Ariona quake with shame.

“You cant!” he cried, “I'll break! You'll kill me!”

The demon’s prick pressed insistently where his fingers had probed, far too large. With his arms still uselessly bound Ariona could not crawl away, thrashing to get out of the uncomfortable position he was crushed into.

“I'll die!”

Relentless, the demon pushed harder, so hard that he began to give, and even as he did Ariona felt himself breaking. Even slicked, the demon’s cock inched inside slowly, tearing his delicate skin, so that Ariona’s mouth fell open in a silent scream.

“Stop this!” shouted Biorr.

The demon seated himself as deep as he could go, patting Ariona’s back.

“Much better.”

He pulled out and blood dripped out alongside his prick. It didn't look like enough for the amount of pain Ariona felt, head forced between his knees so that he could see himself wrenched apart. What was almost worse was the sight of his well used pussy, dripping and open wide enough to accommodate the bursts of yellowed demon jism that sputtered forth with each thrust into his backside.

“Take- take it out! Please!”

Ariona squirmed between the official’s stomach and the floor, his forehead still pressed to the wood.

“It hurts!”

“It always hurts the first time,” the demon chided, giving him a particularly punishing pound in accompaniment.

“Besides, you should at least pretend to be brave! What kind of a knight becomes so pitiful in the face of a little pain?”

But it was not little. It was all consuming, as if he had been reduced to one single bundle of flesh which was assaulted on all sides. What pleasure his body had forcibly eked out from his earlier assaults was crushed under the fist that beat upon his insides now, even though he could feel the movement of the demon’s cock in his quim still, the lining between the two holes stretched thin by his horrible girth.

“Now do you see,” said one of the others, not to Ariona but to Biorr, “how pointless your resistance is? This is whats left of your royalty, of your Boletaria, this whimpering wretch here. When you rouse up trouble in your unit, when you encourage revolt, this is what you’re trying to save. Is this really what you intend to give your life for?”

Ariona did not hear Biorr’s response, because at that moment he slipped out of consciousness.

What seemed like moments later he awoke, someone grasping his head by the hair again to hold his nose to a reeking pouch. He gagged, trying to turn away. Then his senses returned fully, and the pain splitting his backside caught up to him.

“Who said you could leave us, little prince?”

The demon tied the pouch to his belt once again, giving Ariona’s head a nasty shake.

“How rude of you! And before I’d had my fill, as well.”

They let go and Ariona was able to sit up, wincing in pain. The one who’d had him last had finished, he realized despairingly, the same liquid heat sitting oddly inside him from behind as well now. This understanding coincided with the sudden, violent rolling of his stomach, and the official stepped away just in time to avoid him as Ariona vomited what little he still has inside his stomach across the floorboards.

“Dear me,” someone said, as Ariona’s shoulders heaved and he again spit up, though all that remained was fluid, “what awful manners!”

“Its because you hurt him!” Biorr shouted, and Ariona gasped for breath, a mess.

“We only followed your lead.”

“Shut up!”

Biorr managed to stand, shoving the dreglings off his shoulders.

“I don't want to hear any more lies and accusations! Let him go! He’s had enough!”

He was like an angel in Ariona’s eyes. Though still restrained by the ever present threat of their very existence, Biorr stood tall, staring them down.

“Oh, if you insist.”

The official’s tone implied he was not really giving in at all, but Ariona still slumped somewhat, too tired to fight anymore. He looked up at Biorr, shining like the sun with his halo of red hair.

“But before you part, I think its only fair you soothe the boy for the trouble you've caused him.”

Not bothering to argue, Biorr said, “And what wicked deed do your words disguise this time?”

“Such little faith you have in us!” the demon cackled, “rightly so.”

In one move he reached down and pulled Ariona upright by the hair again, kicking his thighs apart. The front of his shirt was soaked in sweat now, breasts puffy and laced with little scratched, and between his legs was a mess of bodily fluids, cum slicking his pubic hair flat. This time, though he wanted to, Ariona could not find the strength to even attempt to cover himself.

“You wouldn't have us leave him in this condition, would you?” the demon asked, “It’s not a very princely appearance.”

Biorr squinted, looking away.

“What now, beasts?”

“Clean him,” he said, “with your tongue.”

Ariona balked, interrupted by Biorr taking a step forward.

“Fine,” he said, booming and venomous, “but at least let me move him from the sick.”

“Biorr,” said Ariona, trying to stop him from lowering himself to such a debauched level, but they must have approved his request for Biorr was already reaching for him. As soon as those worn hands were on him again Ariona could not speak another word, lunging up onto his shaking legs and into Biorr’s arms. Biorr bowed out his elbows and encircled his prince’s body, letting them press close, closer than they had during the sex, uncaring of the slick and sweat and bile that was staining his clothing.

“I'm here, your Highness,” he said, “I've got you.”

Ariona had not been hugged in a long, long time, maybe never like this. He pressed his face to Biorr’s strong chest and wept bitterly.

“Enough of that,” the demon snapped, and he moved forward menacingly.

“Hurry it up!”

Without responding, Biorr began to maneuver them both back towards the table, and Ariona followed, because he would follow this man anywhere right now. When his thighs again brushed wood, Biorr began to unwind them.

“I'm sorry, my lord,” he mumbled quietly, “I'm going to need you to lie back now.”

Ariona shook his head, remaining as close to Biorr as physically possible. He wanted to be there forever, as if absorbed inside him, untouchable in the womb of their embrace.

“Your Highness,” Biorr hissed, looking to the eager officials nervously, “please.”

“Don't make me,” Ariona whispered, mortified by his cowardice, “Biorr!”

“If I don't, they're going to hurt you again,” Biorr insisted, but he made no move to push Ariona off. Instead the deed was done for them, one of the demons grown too impatient grabbing Ariona by the shoulders and pulling him up off his feet, kicking in distress.

“He’s right,” the demon snarled, salivating, “as I’m not waiting to be entertained.”

Taking the opening, Biorr drove his shoulders between Ariona’s legs to keep them spread, much as he had been positioned earlier, and looked down at his sullied sex. His vulva was still swollen and red, a far cry from the demure organ it had been an hour prior. Fat, gluttonous globules of semen lazily spilled down his slit, pinkening where they mixed with the spendings in his ass.

“And all I have to do now is,” Biorr paused, feeling like he may vomit himself, “clean him, correct?”

“To the best of your ability,” they said, “assuming you don't want him to spend the night in his cell like this. The idea is somewhat tempting, after all.”

“If you do well enough, you may even prevent him from getting pregnant! Though I doubt that's avoidable now.”

The thought had not crossed Biorr’s mind before, and now that it had he wished he’d remained oblivious. He himself was a contender for the culprit, having been the first, in this session at least, to spill himself inside. He looked at Ariona, who had his head turned away and his eyes shut tight.

“I'm sorry,” he said, as if it had helped any of the times he’d said it before, “I'll try to be quick, your Highness.”

Months of having eaten rotting food, picking maggots from the walls for the extra nourishment, had prepared Biorr for such unpleasantness, but the sour taste of the demon’s seed still made his nose crinkle. There was copious amounts of it, too, more than a human could naturally produce, coating the insides of Ariona’s thighs. That was where he began, lapping clean the skin where it was exposed and avoiding what wasn't. Ariona moaned miserably but did not try to escape him, trying his best to think of anything else. This was the ultimate disgrace for them both, a once proud hero forced to suck the spendings of a monster from his pitiful cunny.

Biorr avoided Ariona’s cunt as long as he could, but soon there was nothing left. Steadying himself, he gently laved his tongue up the slit. Ariona jumped.

“I-!” Biorr stopped himself from apologizing again, breathing in sharply.

“I know it hurts, bear with me.”

It didn't hurt. That was the problem. Even after the abuse he’d sustained, the light tickle of Biorr’s tongue across his oversensitive flesh sent a thrill through his body that Ariona desperately wished he could ignore. The gooey semen inside him still pressed uncomfortably against his stomach, oozing out as Biorr slowly worked him open, and it was like lancing a wound, a disgusting pleasure. He spread his legs wider, urging Biorr on, and whether he consciously understood his prince’s wishes the knight came closer, putting his lips flush to Ariona’s and beginning to probe his tongue inside. It sounded filthy, each wet smack reddening Ariona’s ears. When he finally pulled away Ariona was panting again, too sore to really desire more but aroused nonetheless. Thankfully he was spared any worse, Biorr looking to the demons who nodded, assenting.

“Its my fault,” Ariona said in a tiny voice, “you shouldn't have to do this.”

Biorr stood up, but he kept a warm hand on Ariona’s leg.

“I would do anything for your Highness.”

They grabbed at Biorr and this time he did not fight back. Ariona’s heart was so full, he could hardly breathe. It hurt.

“Come on, we’re done for today.”

As the dreglings attached their leads to his manacles again, steering him towards the door they’d entered from, Biorr did not once take his gaze from Ariona, conveying something between them that did not need words. He would never stop fighting, as long as he still drew breath. Ariona lay back and prayed. They did not see one another again for a long time after.

  
  



End file.
